


39. The morning after...

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [39]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:25:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4554201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings for hard verbal humiliation and some nasty/sexy butt sex that involves blood</p>
    </blockquote>





	39. The morning after...

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for hard verbal humiliation and some nasty/sexy butt sex that involves blood

When Antony wakes, Stephen's still fast asleep, the two of them spooned together, his morning erection nestled between his boy's cheeks. He shifts slowly, careful not to wake Stephen, until his lover's on his back and he can watch him sleep, cock now pressed to the side of his hip. Eyes trailing over his perfect features, over the collar at his throat, the collar _he_ put there, signifying his ownership of this man. Just the thought makes him even harder. Christ. He never thought he'd have this. Never really even dared dream of finding anyone who fits him so perfectly in every way. God knows with his work, the things he does, he doesn't deserve Stephen. Must have fooled someone somewhere to be given this chance.

The rise out of sleep is slow and easy, he can feel Antony pressed close, but that's nothing new, his lover is not a man who is happy to have space between them in bed - even in sleep. He opens his eyes and blinks, turning a sleepy smile on his lover. "Mornin'," he slurs.

"Morning, beautiful," Antony murmurs, smiling back. "Did you get a good sleep?"

 _Beautiful..._ It warms Stephen, even though part of him wants to squirm at it. He gives a half nod and stretches out, bones popping as he wriggles out the stiffness in his joints. "Yeah...hardly a surprise after last night though," he observes with a cocked brow and very self satisfied smile on his mouth.

Antony chuckles, eyes crinkling at their corners. "Wore you out, did I?"

"Wore me out, fucked me out, spaced me out...I’m all out," Stephen nods, his fingers coming up to stroke over the collar and finger the small padlock.

"Is it what you wanted?" Antony asks, nodding at the collar. Stephen had mentioned chain before but he wasn't sure when faced with all the different links. Some of them had looked so damn heavy.

"I love them both," Stephen smiles, "I love them, and I love you, and I fucking love your boots..." he teases, reaching over to cup the side of Antony's face.

"I was hoping you would," Antony says, turning his head to brush his lips across Stephen's fingers. "Here you've been telling me about your cast iron kink and I know we did the military thing that time but I wanted to see your reaction to the boots, me, the whole thing pared down."

"Just you and the boots is all I need...anything else is just...better than icing to be honest," Stephen blows out a breath at the memory. "But to do that, last night? Perfect, so fucking perfect, I hope my behaviour was everything you wanted...I have some blanks, some blurred time..."

"Next time we'll tape it," Antony promises, unable to stop smiling. "And you were perfect. Everything I'd imagined and more." He grins. "I'm going to take the last as a compliment," he teases, running his hand over Stephen's side, tucking him in closer again.

"You should, I've never gone down as hard as I do for you, but then I've never had a Sir indulge my boot fetish as wholeheartedly as you do." And there's an understatement, more often than not Stephen had had to seek out ‘one offs’ to get that kink need met. He snuggles up and rubs his nose and lips against Antony's skin. "Perfect? I've never been perfect before," he murmurs.

"They were all fucking assholes," Antony murmurs, a slight edge creeping into his tone. "Not a fucking clue what they had. But I'm glad though. Their stupidity meant you were still here for me, the one who knows exactly what he has in you."

There's something there, in Antony's tone, that makes Stephen pull back a little - to study his face. The words have his heart clenching hard, but that underlying thing... "It pisses you off doesn't it?" he asks softly.

Antony nods. "It pisses me off that they made you feel less, like you weren't good enough, when it was fucking them. I don't have to meet them or know them to know that. I only have to know you and I've known men like them, and I know you don't like me bad-mouthing them but..." Fuck. He shakes his head. He's said enough.

"Maybe I wasn't good enough for them because they weren't good enough for me? Maybe, I just needed the right Sir to know how to work me? I don't know, but you were right before...I'm glad it didn't work out, because otherwise I would never have found you. I wouldn't be here right now, wearing your collar, having committed myself and my future to you," Stephen presses his fingers against Antony's mouth. "I am who I am, in part because of them, of the mistakes made...remember that."

"I know," Antony murmurs against those fingers, and he does. Knows better than to second guess your past, your experiences, all the things and people who have gone into making you who you are. "And I will," he promises, taking hold of Stephen's hand and pressing a kiss to his palm.

"Sooo," Stephen takes a breath wanting to change the subject. "Do you plan on carrying me over the threshold later? When we get home?" his tone both flirty and teasing.

"Definitely." Antony smiles, eyes sparkling again. "In my arms or over my shoulder?"

Stephen snorts with laughter at that. "Whichever takes your fancy in the moment," he grins. "Both are your style so I've come to learn."

"That's me. A true Renaissance man," Antony chuckles, nibbling at Stephen's shoulder.

"Huh, I guess you are actually," Stephen agrees, his voice getting a little throatier at the gentle biting. "There are many parts to you, and you keep most of them hidden, don't you?"

Antony tenses a fraction then quickly relaxes, licking over the light marks he's leaving on Stephen's skin. "I'm a private person," he murmurs. "I can count the people I truly trust on one hand and have fingers left over."

"I like that about you...I like that there are parts of you that only I see, that belong to just me," Stephen whispers, "and there are parts of you that you keep from me too..." He arches up a little into the licks, a low noise of want spilling from his mouth.

Antony shifts, getting his mouth on a nipple, sucking it to a rigid peak before biting.

"Oh...oh fuck!" Stephen's fingers are grabbing, kneading, pressing tight into Antony's body, pulling in tighter. "Tony... please..." he groans, wanting much more skin on skin...mouth on skin.

"Hm?" Antony lifts his head, eyes filled with mischief before he drops again, his attentions - and teeth - turned to Stephen's other nipple. Licking and sucking and biting, his cock smearing precome across Stephen's skin.

"Tony!" Stephen's writhing now, his body lighting up in ways only Antony can initiate. "I want you... I need you... please..."

"Don't you have me already?" Antony asks, shifting between Stephen's thighs. Deliberately misunderstanding.

Stephen growls at that, a full throated growl of frustration, his fingers claw up to employ nails as he pulls Antony down on top of him, wrapping his legs around his lover's hips. "I want you, to fuck me," he hisses, blue eyes flashing.

"And here I was planning on giving you a break," Antony grins, canting his hips to get just the right angle before he's already pushing in, the slick of leftover semen and lube easing, somewhat, his path.

"Since when..." Stephen pauses to suck in a shuddery breath, "do I not like your pain?" he rumbles, bearing down, wanting that insane sensation of fullness, of feeling like he might _just_ split. "Fuck me til I'm bleeding for you..." he demands. "Fucking wreck my cunt, please."

"Fucking wreck it?" Antony growls, grabbing Stephen's wrists and pushing them above his head as he moves slowly but steadily deeper, his boy's body opening up for him.

"Yes!" Stephen hisses, pressing up against the hold Antony has on his wrists. "Wreck it... fuck it so hard it's ruined... gaping and bloody, seeping with your cum..."

Antony groans, the words going to straight to his cock. He pushes ball deep, rocking his hips for a moment, making room for himself in Stephen's body then pulls out and slams deep again.

Stephen cries out at the thrust which rocks him up the bed a little, and he pushes against the press of his Sir, "ohfuckyes... please..." he moans, loud and desperate. "Again..."

It's enough that Stephen can take him, can take every last fucking inch without flinching, without protest or reservation, but the fact that his boy wants more, wants it harder, wants Antony to fuck him without mercy... God. Antony tightens his grip on Stephen's wrists and using that hold as leverage, slams deep again and again, driving into that tight heat, intent on giving _everything_ and holding nothing back.

Soon enough Stephen is howling out his pain, yelling at the top of his voice each time Antony's body meets his own, even so, he still manages to grunt out the occasional 'yes'...'more' to let his lover and Sir know this is exactly what he wants. Tears wet his flushed face, his whole body is slick with sweat and he feels like he's never been more possessed.

Leftover lube and come only go so far and it's not long before the path's tightening again, the friction increasing, but Antony doesn't stop. He doubles his efforts, roughens his thrusts, abusing Stephen's already battered hole.

Nails scoring Antony's back, hard enough to draw blood, Stephen struggles beneath the onslaught, his body not flinching despite the pain as it builds to a crescendo of agony as his body takes everything Antony gives him... takes it and drowns in it.

Antony growls, dropping his head for a moment as Stephen's nails open his skin, but his thrusts never falter. Not even when he feels Stephen's body give, something that's neither lube nor come starting to slick his path. A glance between confirms the sensation, his cock glistening with red. "Fuck," he spits out. "Fucking wrecking your cunt, your bloody cunt, gonna leave you hanging open, gaping, my come's going to be sliding out of you..."

And just like that Stephen falls into a black hole of subspace, it's sudden and all consuming, unfamiliar in its depth. His pupils blow wide, and his body tension shifts, the noises spilling from his mouth are incoherent but softer... the pain falls away and he floats... the only thing tethering him is where he is joined by his body to his Sir...

"Is this what you wanted, pig?" Antony goes on, every thrust putting him closer and close to the edge. "Wanted your nasty cunt wrecked, fucked open til you're bleeding... I own you," he growls, watching Stephen's face, aware that his boy has dropped, gone so fucking far under he's barely aware of the words, of anything except for Antony fucking into him over and over. "I fucking _own_ you," he repeats, suddenly driving in even harder, his movements erratic as his whole body tightens, shout after shout filling the room as his cock spurts hot and heavy into the body beneath him.

With the abuse being spat at him, the punishing use of his body, Stephen is utterly lost in his Sir...and then on some instinctual level Stephen is aware of the moment his Sir orgasms, the tension bleeds away and he's left shivering and shuddering beneath the weight of Antony's body, wide eyed, breathless...lost.

Antony blows out a soft breath, his fingers still wrapped around Stephen's wrists as he drops down for a soft kiss, a "good boy" murmured against Stephen's cheek. His cock still pulsing inside that tight heat, the scent of blood - from him, Stephen, both - in the air. "So good for me..."

It's the tone rather than the words that filter through. Stephen turns his head, seeking the press of Sir's mouth to his own. A kiss, a taste...connection.

Antony kisses Stephen softly - once, twice and then again, sucking gently at his lower lip. He's in no rush to move, despite the come and blood between them, instead using his body weight to reassure his boy.

Minutes pass in quiet nuzzling, and all the while Stephen inches his way back to reality, as he does, he becomes aware just how much his body just took... he shifts a little, grimacing. "Sir..." he slurs his voice rough, hoarse.

"Yeah, I know," Antony says, easing out slowly, wincing a little himself. "Want me to wash you up here or do you want a bath?"

His eyes never leave Antony's face, but he doesn't answer, simply gives a half shrug as he brings his hands down, rubbing distractedly at his wrists, even though the most insistent pain is that around his ass, an unpleasant and painful throb.

"Hey, beautiful," Antony murmurs, stretching out beside Stephen, a kiss pressed to his boy's shoulder. "It's time to come back to me, Stephen."

It's becoming a more familiar sweetheart name, and one Stephen absolutely cherishes, he turns his head as his Sir moves, and almost flinches when his name is used in that way - his Sir signalling it's time for him to to force himself back and be present. A frown marrs his forehead and there's a slight pout as he resists the order...not wanting to - not now, not yet.

"C'mon, Stephen, it's time to come back," Antony insists. Sometimes he lets Stephen stay down but this time? "I need to wash you up and check you out."

It takes a concerted effort on Stephen's part to pull himself back. He takes several deep breathes, rubs at his face with one hand and pushes up into a sitting position, wincing as he does so. Blinking he turns his gaze on his Sir...on Antony. "Okay...m'here..." he manages, and whilst he isn't totally 'with it' he's not in that all consuming buzz where Antony is his only focus.

"Let's get you into the bathroom," Antony says, taking Stephen's hand, fairly certain his boy can handle walking there, but watching him closely nonetheless.

It's as he shuffles off the bed, taking his lover's hand that Stephen notices the blood staining Antony's cock...all along its length and into his pubic hair. _FUCK! What....what did we do?"_ He swallows, a frown settling over his face as he finds his feet and makes a move to the bathroom. Sure it hurts, more so than usual...but that blood...

"Lean over the counter and I'll clean you up," Antony says, pulling a washcloth from the basket beside the sink and wetting it with nice warm water. "Then you can have a bath. I think they've got some epsom salts here. I'll call down if not."

Still easily directed, Stephen bends over, crossing his arms on the countertop he sets his forehead on them. Normally, being inspected by his Sir would be rather erotic, that's not the case this morning however, instead it makes him feel a little uncomfortable - and not in the physical sense, so he sets his mind on the feel of the metal around his throat - and what it means.

There's a small wooden stool on hand and Antony takes a seat behind Stephen, gently wiping him down with the cloth. The blood comes away easily, revealing reddened swollen skin with a few mild tears on the outside. He uses his fingers to look just inside but there doesn't appear to be anything beyond that, although the tears start bleeding again now that they're cleaned. "It doesn't look too bad," he tells Stephen. "You're still bleeding but it's just because I wiped the dried blood off. You might find they open up pretty easily in the next few days on the toilet, but if you try not to strain and maybe put some lube or vaseline on them, they should heal up fairly quickly."

"So no sex then?" Lifting his head Stephen looks over his shoulder, though he can't meet Antony's eyes. He blows out a breath, then asks "Have you done this before?" He means made someone bleed, rather than this kind of 'inspection'. He pushes up and turns on the tap - wanting to splash his face with water.

"Not like this, not on purpose. Sometimes its just the byproduct of being so large and fucking the way we do," Antony says, opening the cabinets under the sink and pulling out a jar of epsom salts. "You regretting asking me for it?"

Stephen doesn't answer that straight off, he scoops water up and throws it over his face a couple of times then grabs a hand towel to pat it off. As he does he looks over at his Sir, and sees the bloody trails across his back...marks he put there. "Honestly? I don't know," he manages a small shrug. "Do you regret doing it?"

"No," Antony doesn't even hesitate. "You wanted it, I wanted it. I'm not going to regret that. But it's obviously not something we're going to do on a regular basis. Not when it could end up worse than it did." He rises to his feet and moves to the tub, turning the taps on.

"I did want it Antony." Suddenly it seems important that Stephen makes that clear, and he's not even aware of the fact he's used Antony's full name, something he rarely does now when they're alone and out of role. "I...I...my head..." Is the most coherent thing he can come up with to describe why he feels so utterly disconnected right now - like there's little or no intimacy between them, even though they're both naked and covered in each others marks and body fluids.

Antony straightens up, looking at Stephen for a moment before he moves forward and pulls him into his arms. "Hey, it's okay," he says softly, hugging him tight. "This maybe isn't the time to talk about it. Just know that I love you and I don't have _any_ regrets. About anything."

Wrapping his arms around his lover in turn, Stephen holds on tight, he sets his face into the crook of Antony's neck and once he thinks he has the urge to cry under control he murmurs a throaty. "Say it again, tell me again this is forever," _That you will never throw me away..._

"This is forever," Antony promises, stroking the back of Stephen's hair as he holds him close. "You and me. I'm not /ever/ going to let you go."

It soothes Stephen, but doesn't entirely quieten the demon in his head. He nods, swallows and gives Antony one last squeeze. "Forever," he whispers, as much to himself.


End file.
